


teaching and figuring

by Voidromeda



Category: The Lorax (2012)
Genre: Gen, Rewrite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:53:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26939911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voidromeda/pseuds/Voidromeda
Summary: With a little bit of this, with a little bit of that, and at the drop of a hat,Comes Once-ler with his Thneed - a Thing-That-All-Need!
Kudos: 7





	teaching and figuring

**Author's Note:**

> I've been listening to Biggering (Demo) for the past two days, read the Seuss poem, remembered I watched the movie, watched a video on the Lorax fandom, was hit with nostalgia, and ended up writing this in a delirious frenzy while writing my weakness:
> 
> rhyming.
> 
> please kill me.
> 
> Some of the lines are from the Seuss poems, and some of the lines are from the song. You can listen to the song [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cpyuolKoeAY) and read the Lorax poem from Dr. Seuss [here](http://dep.wv.gov/WWE/Programs/nonptsource/Documents/TheLorax.pdf).

The story, as such, goes like this – a little bit of that, a little bit of this, and at the drop of a hat, came a young upstart. His simplicity is in his heart, but not his mind – but sadly, in that head of his, bad thoughts have a place to find.

It starts with a simple thing – he sits in a hut, far from civilisation and those lot, and around his hut surrounds the wonderful Truffulas.

Leaves of soft pink, like animal fur, hits the young upstart’s fancy – makes him wonder and consider. On grounds are very little tufts, to which the young upstart grabs, with great wonders and ideas, all needing the tools in his small habitat.

Off he runs to his hut, run- run- run – faster than anyone else, for he has many a great thing soon to be spun! A little glove from that little tuft, as soft as can be, and he says it proudly, openly, “this is my Thneed!”

He grabs an axe and slams down a tree and runs to make better Thneed, finishing it and cheering only to be halted by a harsh ga-zing!

He turns on his feet, and with wide eyes he sees – a short little man, made orange and brown and quite furry! His mustache twirls and his brow furrows – he stands on tip toes, gives a twitch of his non-existent nose,

“You, you, mister! Tell me right-away – are you the ones who cut them, who made the trees sway? I am the Lorax, I speak for the trees, for the trees have no mouths! Tell me, tell me now, what is it that you tout? You’ve taken from me my tuft, and what have you made? Well, mister, what have you to say?”

The young upstart brandishes his Thneed, much to the Lorax’s dismay.

“A Thneed, a Thneed sure, a Thing-All-People-Needs! It’s a shirt, a sock, a hat, and a cap! It is pants, it is great for dance, it is fashionable from a distance! It is soft, it is fuzzy, and it will make you feel all things funny. It is a thing everyone shall buy, for I know what way the future lies!”

“Do not be ridiculous! You are crazy! No one shall buy a Thneed – there is no need, no need! For such a thing called Thneed!”

But to his dismay, a traveler passes by – his eyes are eager, and he wishes to buy. He walks to the young upstart and asks him his price.

He grins, the young upstart, “that will be four ninety-nine!”

Sold! Is his Thneed and the man yells gratefully, for even he can commend – the young upstart knits wonderfully!

Boiling with rage, the Lorax grabs his head. “That cannot be, that cannot be – what will become of my bed? My Truffulas, they cannot speak, and so I shall repeat – I speak, I speak, I speak for the trees! You must cease, immediately at once. We shall let it pass this, but only for this nonce. Do you understand, Mister?”

He enters a dither, upset on his face, “my name is the Once-ler, and not Mister-No-Name! But my Thneeds are wonderful, I cannot stop. What will I do then, when more show up?” he ignores the Lorax, and grabs his axe. There is not much he can do, already taken his stance. The Lorax watches horrified as the Once-ler makes another tree sway, “this shall not be the last of my Thneeds!” is all the Once-ler says.

To the Lorax, this Once-ler was lost. A sprightly young man was this upstart. His hair reflects night, and midnight swells his heart.

Yet no matter how much he yells and stands on his tip toes, it is all for naught. Another Truffula falls, giving way to Thneed. Another sale is made, with the tagline, “a Thneed is what you Need!”

More show up, as the upstart proclaims. He makes more sales, and it is all the same. The Lorax barges to his home, demands for him to stop – but it is all lost as the Once-ler rises to the top.

“But what of the trees?” the Lorax pleas, and for a second the Once-ler shows sympathy.

“I promise to replant, there is no need for tears. I will sell a few more, and that’s the last you shall hear.” says the Once-ler, making quite the promise. For a second the Lorax believes that he shall be honest.

Yet when the money comes in, rolling and growing, the Once-ler looks stricken, and it is then the Lorax knows that he is losing. He argues with himself, over and over, but for even the Lorax can tell that it is a loss for the moral Once-ler.

Another one comes asking for his Thneed, and when he says he has none – she gives the encouragement he needs.

“If only you had labourers,” says the woman ruefully, “then you can just keep making your Thneed!”

“With workers?”

“And machines!”

“Oh how right you are, missy!”

And so the Lorax watched with horror as his promise breaks – “I made a mistake, but it will be fixed, and I will do what it takes! Step up, step up, harder on the brakes!”

Buildings erect in a grave of Truffula trees and a man comes in with a machine swinging axes with gleeful ‘shwees’! Factories build, and the smoke bellows – the once beautiful sky, turns grim, sickly, and loses its sunlight-yellow.

Smog overtakes any breathable air – no matter where you are, you can now see it there. Grey takes over and oh, how mightily Lorax trembles! For more and more buildings follow with no preamble! Trees quiver and shake and lose their tufts. Animals flee their homes and outside they are stuck.

Thump thump thump goes the feet of little critters, as the machines swing hither and thither – shwee, shwee, echoes in the wind. Axes chop skillfully and there is nothing, no, nothing left! Of his breath bereft, the Lorax cries.

For as the trees fall, the Thneed swiftly thrives.

Yet the Lorax does not give up, even as people worship Once-ler. “Thneeds, Thneeds!” yells another, “that is what will fill my soul!”

“I never knew I needed Thneed,” thwappity! Thneed flies in the air, “without I was empty, not at all whole!”

So the Once-ler is worshipped and so he smiles. His secretary sits near him and takes notes all the time. The Lorax learns many as he skitters into the Once-ler’s room – sees him smoke, spin his hat, twirl his cane, and take a step closer to the forest’s doom. Angrily he comes in, yells at the top of his lungs –

“Mister, Mister! Do you not see what you have done?”

“Lorax, you have come,”

“And not a moment too soon! Do you not see the outside? We’ve been tasked with your cursed boon! It is time to give your butt a hop, and make this mess outside stop!”

Once-ler sighs, and sighs again, he stretches his arms, and gives a little spin. He throws his arms out open and walks to his balcony – overlooking the outside, and seeing indulgent society.

“I am biggering, biggering!” cries the Once-ler gleefully, “look at how we spread – I’m biggering, and will continue on biggering! I cannot stop biggering!

We all need this Thneed, and we cannot stop biggering! No bickering, more biggering!”

The Lorax stomps his foot. “Do you not look outside, and see the smog bellowing?”

Do you not look outside, and see the creatures running?

Do you not look outside, and see the homes melting?"

Once-ler laughs, “why should I care of what you’re declaring? I’m biggering!”

“Do you not see what is triggering your biggering?

As you cannot see the source of your biggering, let me make it easier in figuring!

Your greed – you sell your Thneeds on half-baked needs. Your greed! Your greed!

But you cannot blame only the greed, no – that is silly! Surely even you can see, you cannot blame greed.

That which makes greed bleed, see, it is endlessly hungry.

It eats, it eats, and eats, but more than it needs! Yes, that little thing which hides, that which is triggering your biggering,

Surely you know what it is, that which hides?

Pride.”

The Once-ler did not believe him, not once, and points out – angrily – towards his civilisation, “Cross! You are cross, Lorax!

I am biggering, and biggering, and I see that you need figuring,

In what causes my biggering. Let me tell you, Lorax, so that you can finally see!

A company is an animal that hides, fights, and kills to survive, to eat!

That which cannot, will simply starve, fall over, and die,

Instead of the company that works and fights!

My biggering! My biggering is what is triggering more biggering!”

The little Lorax shook – and shook worse when Once-ler grabs him and leads him ‘round and ‘round this dandy town.

“Look at my towers that grow! Look at my gold which glows! Look at my plaque with grace it shows!

How can I stop biggering?

When these people are wanting?”

“And so you’ll keep on biggering?”

“I’ll keep on biggering! And biggering! And biggering!”

Shwee! Shwee! Shwee! Goes the distance as silver lands on trees.

“I’ll keep on biggering!”

Cars line on outside the town, figuring on purchasing.

The Once-ler drags him to his extravagant office and drops him without notice.

“My customers are still coming!

My business is booming!

And I will keep on going!

And going! And going!

This is all so gratifying!”

Fwup, fwup, fwup, goes the Lorax’s feet, body slumping in defeat. The Once-ler witnesses several animals trail behind him, surprised to see the creatures within. Around his window to the Truffula trees they surround, ignoring the one that overlooks his town.

His chair skids with deafening ‘skree!’ when he stands, movements confidently taking him to the window looking out towards the Truffula trees.

“Open the curtain, Once-ler, witness my abode,” says the Lorax, “and see, see with your own eyes, what has become of my home.”

He throws the curtains back carelessly – his hands grab at the window sill, immaculately clean. 

A gasp – it is from he! And why does he gasp? Very easily.

It is at the death of the final Truffula tree, surrounded by graves of its former company. Silver lands on the tree and breaks through with ease, leaving it to fall on its side and be the final Thneed.

Cars disperse immediately when there are no more Thneed. People quit from his factories and smog belches out intermittently.

For there is no more Thneed, and there is nothing more to ever need – and as there is no more Thneed, thus is there no more Truffula tree.

Animals leave quickly, to migrate to safety. The Lorax looks up at the Once-ler, done as he is with the grim scene. His home is nothing but charred dirt and stumps – there is not a place for him to rest upon, for him to speak of.

To him the Lorax glances to with no words to say. Then he makes on his grimly way.

He gives to the Once-ler one last look-see before he fades into the smog as grey as the deadened grass in that rotten scene. The Once-ler, see, he does not leave his decrepit city and he does not speak –

For the Lorax is no more, and there are no more Truffula trees.

His final, parting word is a pile of rocks in the deadened sea of trees, with a simple, singular word – **UNLESS**. What is that to mean? How is the Once-ler to guess?

“And that is what happened, little boy, little Ted Wiggins,

I killed, and killed, every single tree,

And polluted the air in which we breathe,

Yes, little boy Wiggins,

I, the Once-ler, destroyed the trees.”

Little Ted Wiggins, upset is he, says the damning words, “and will the Lorax ever be?”

“No more, not until there are more trees.”

“And how can they come back?”

The Once-ler drags his arm out his distended hut. Something falls from his hand and down the convoluted leg that holds it up –

Thwack, thwack, thwack!

An old man now, with his hair reflecting a waning moon, and the reason behind a forest gone too soon, above sits the Once-ler, barely peeking out at his young little listener.

“For long, I wondered-

Why the word Unless?

I guessed, and guessed,

But for a long time I lacked the sense.

Long, long ago, I made my Thneeds,

And the results are now what you see.

But now I know what it is that the Lorax means.

Therefore, catch!”

Out his window something else falls.

“It’s the last of its kind, the last of them all!

Yes, it is a Truffula seed.

To bring back the Truffula trees,

I finally understand what the Lorax means,

For you are here, and his word is clear.

Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It’s not.

Plant the seed, give it care. Nourish it with love, and fresh air. Bring back a forest and protect it from axes that hack. And maybe, maybe, the Lorax and his friends may come back.”


End file.
